


Fallen for You

by JoseyxNeko



Series: Ineffable Idiots (Bureaucracy and Husbands) [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Allusions to smut, Author can't write smut so just makes jokes instead, Beelzebub only expresses strong emotions, Beelzebub's inner monologue is so sweary I'm sorry, Chapter 2 turned out Crackier than I expected, Comedy, Emotional Turmoil, Gifts, Hell Scenes, Humour, In Chapter 2 mostly, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Other, POV Beelzebub (Good Omens), Suggested Smut, Swearing, That's my favourite tag I swear, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, Trash Fire treated seriously, alcohol consumption, passing notes, soft hours, there's some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-27 06:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoseyxNeko/pseuds/JoseyxNeko
Summary: Beelzebub had sent the latest note, and fully expected to be first to arrive in the dusty room, as per usual.Only. They weren't.And the room wasn't dusty anymore.There wasn't any smashed up desks either.It was all gone.Miracled away, clean, by the Archangel leaning over the desk in the middle of the room.--Beelzebub has an existential crisis, becauseof coursethey do.--This story directly followsPlease Stop Talking. The events of that story are referenced throughout.





	1. Fallen for You

**Author's Note:**

> 7,000 words, because I can't help myself. I don't know what happened.
> 
> Beelzebub is They/Them  
Gabriel is He/Him  
Eric, the Disposable Demon, is singular He/Him, regardless of how many of him is being referred to. _Because I'm quirky._
> 
> Please enjoy!!

Beelzebub lies a lot. They are a Demon, after all.

They lie to Dagon.

“Why are you visiting Earth so often? You’re looking _cleaner_ than usual as of late. Keeping secrets, are we?”

To which they responded;

“Temptations. Piss off. None of your business.”

They lie to Hastur.

“You’ve always been soft on _Crawley._ Anyone would think you actually like the Flash Bastard.”

To which they responded;

_“Crowley_ can go choke on an Angel’s dick.”[1] 

They lie to the other Demons in Hell.

“Of course I won’t be disappointed if you fail me.”

And then they’d lock them in an Iron Maiden.

But most of all, they lie to themself.

Their relationship with the Archangel Gabriel is purely business.

They feel nothing for him. _Nothing_. He’s just a way to pass the time in an Armageddon-free world.

\--

Beelzebub was holding a desk above their head when Gabriel popped into existence in the room.

After the fight in front of the bookshop, in which the Archangel Gabriel had taken offence to the relationship between an Angel and a Demon, Beelzebub had stormed off to the abandoned office building that the Archangel and themself frequented during their Earthly liaisons. Their rage had caused their flies to scarper, and they were kicking desks across the room, smashing them into pieces, and hurling them against walls. Gabriel approached the Demon Prince, ducking to avoid the current projectile, and wrapped them up in his arms. They tried to break free, thrashing around, shrieking at him about what a fucker and a hypocrite he was, but he held fast, the way only an Archangel could.

When Beelzebub had finally calmed down, having only taking out a small amount of Gabriel’s suit, he leaned away to look at them. He uncharacteristically hadn’t said anything since his arrival, and he bent down and kissed Beelzebub passionately, with a firm grip on their shoulders to stop them from bolting.

They allowed it.

Just as Beelzebub began to reciprocate the kiss, Gabriel pulled back, and looked deep into their eyes. What he was searching for, Beelzebub had no idea. They were just mesmerised by the amethyst swirls piercing deep into their- their _soul_, or lack of. They inwardly cringed at the thought.

Holding their gaze, Gabriel snapped his fingers, and was suddenly lifting them off their feet. Beelzebub gasped in outrage, and pushed against him, but he was already placing them on a desk that had miraculously appeared just behind them. Their hand brushed against a name placard that definitely hadn’t existed a few moments ago. Glancing down at it, one side read ‘Archangel Gabriel’, and the other read ‘Lord Beelzebub’. _This desk belonged to them_, is what is signified. Their breath caught in their throat, and they looked back to the Archangel who was shrugging out of their suit jacket and trousers, revealing his shirt stays. He threw the clothes across the room, and they landed neatly on a hat rack that also had not existed a few moments ago.

Gabriel wasn’t talking. It made the Demon Prince feel uneasy.

He placed one of his legs against their knees, and for a startling moment, Beelzebub thought he’d try to push their legs apart. Instead, he pushed both of them to the side so that they swung up onto the table. He placed his hands on their shoulders, and began pushing them down onto their back.

“W-wait!” Beelzebub stammered, sliding away from him slightly, but inadvertently placing themself more centrally on the desk.

Gabriel didn’t. His hands continued to push them down until they were flat on their back, and he climbed onto the table, straddling them.

_Oh_. They hadn’t done this one before. Beelzebub’s chosen Effort twitched.

“I- I can’t feel it.” They complained, unsure of this turn of events.

Gabriel just raised his eyebrows, and looked down towards where their laps met.

He still wasn’t talking. _Why wasn’t he talking?_

“N-no! Your lo- l- your glow. I can’t feel it.” They pushed up against his arms, but he caught them by the wrists and pinned them down above their head. He barely had to lean over to do it.

It did, however, cause friction between them. Beelzebub writhed at it.

He leaned down to kiss them, which Beelzebub allowed for a moment before breaking the kiss and turning their head away.

“Say something!” They demanded.

“Just following orders.”

_Go fuck yourself._

_Fuck me yourself, you coward._

Beelzebub _had_ meant it, but they hadn’t expected _this_.

Their breathing increased. “You- your glow?” They asked again.

Gabriel smirked, and began kissing down the side of Beelzebub’s jaw. “No glow. No cheating. I’m going to show you I love you using only my body.”

Beelzebub swallowed, hesitant.

“You can say the _word_, whenever you like.” Gabriel reminded them.

They didn’t.

So Gabriel took Beelzebub for a ride.

\--

Beelzebub laid on their back, Gabriel snuggled in on their shoulder contently.

Still a Cuddler.

Personally, they preferred this the other way round, with their head on the Archangel’s shoulder, so that they could hear his heart pounding away in the, for the lack of a better word, _afterglow_. ...If they preferred it at all, that is. Beelzebub didn’t want to cuddle, of course. No way.

They were still fully clothed, albeit with their jacket open, the button and zip of their trousers undone, and shirt un-tucked. This was something Gabriel had never pushed; _undressing them_. As Beelzebub had always been the one to lead, it hadn’t really come up. They’d always remained as comfortably layered as they desired, often choosing to rid Gabriel of his clothes instead. As this was Gabriel taking the initiative, Beelzebub had anticipated that he might want to see more of their body, and they had fully braced themself in the event of that, but he hadn’t. All the touches and kisses he had given had been on top of cloth. It made them question whether Gabriel was interested at all, or if he just _liaised_ with them for their...appendage.

Fuck. Overanalysing.

“I prefer...when I can feel it.” Beelzebub spoke first, for the first time ever.

Gabriel peeked up at their face, ruffling their sash.

“You acted like you could feel it.” He teased.

They sighed, exasperated. “Piss off. Your glow.”

“I thought it burned ‘_like a bitch_’?” He quoted their own words back at them.

“I’ve grown...accustomed to it.” They said. “Besides, nothing will ever be as bad as that stupid treacherous Angel’s glow in that park.” They shuddered. “I thought my insides were going to be eviscerated.”

Gabriel smirked. “It doesn’t actually harm you though.”

“I suppose not.”

“It’s just the shock of it that affects you.” The Archangel said with confidence.

Beelzebub didn’t respond.

“Consider yourself warned.” He smiled, and let his Divine Love flow from him.

If they hadn’t already been lying down, Beelzebub would’ve fallen[2] with the sheer force of it. It was as strong as Aziraphale’s had been during the botched proposal, but this was different. This was shaped for them, as if designed with them in mind. And they supposed it was, considering it was coming from Gabriel.

Instead of fighting it off, scared, like they had been doing up until now, Beelzebub let it seep into them, permeating into the deepest darkest recesses of their being.

It burned like entering a slightly too warm bath when feeling cold; too hot until you were fully submerged, and then everything balances out.

Or;

Being in a dark room that’s suddenly flooded with a bright light that appears brighter still due to how dark the room was in the first place.

Yeah. That’s how Beelzebub would describe it. Them and their limited _imagination._

It completely overwhelmed them, and their body reacted in kind. They flipped the Archangel onto his back, and hitched his knees up to his chest.

“You’re an asshole.” They growled.

Gabriel laughed. “I’m not an asshole. I’m the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.”

“And I’m fucking the Archangel Gabriel.” They sneered.

And they did. Many, many times.[3] 

\--

Now that they’d made up, they were back to their usual routine of sending notes and meeting up and _touching_. Neither of them mentioned Gabriel’s _faux pas_ again. They’d left the smashed up remains of desks where they were, as a reminder.

Beelzebub had sent the latest note, and fully expected to be first to arrive in the dusty room, as per usual.

Only. They weren’t.

And the room wasn’t dusty anymore.

There wasn’t any smashed up desks either.

It was all gone.

Miracled away, clean, by the Archangel leaning over the desk in the middle of the room. She was toying with the name placard, flipping it one way, and then the other.

_Lord Beelzebub_

_Archangel Gabriel_

_Lord Beelzebub_

_Archangel Gabriel_

Beelzebub considered sinking straight through the floor to get away, but before they had the chance to will it to happen, Michael was by their side, linking her arm through theirs.

“Lord Beelzebub.” She trilled all friendly. “How lovely it is to see you again!”

Beelzebub instinctively recoiled from the touch of such a holy creature, but Michael gripped too firmly for them to go anywhere. They looked around the room, expecting Gabriel to be just out of sight, but saw no one. Michael picked up on that.

“Expecting someone else, are we?” She said, voice dripping with pleasantries.

Beelzebub tried to pull their arm away again, but couldn’t break themself free.

What is it with all these Angels being so fucking sturdy?!

“Where is he?” They asked her, voice laced with displeasure.

“Where is who?” Michael asked sweetly.

“The Archangel Fucking Gabriel, who do you think?” Beelzebub buzzed.

It was like a switch had flipped in Michael’s sugary demeanour. “You don’t get to talk about him like that.” She said, suddenly serious.

The grip on Beelzebub’s arm tightened. If they had anymore nerve endings left to feel pain, they were sure it would’ve hurt.

“I am Lord Beelzebub, Prince of Hell. I’ll talk about whomever, however I like-” They started, but was cut off as Michael twisted their arm, forcing them to their knees.

“I can smite you where you stand, you little shit. Now, whatever tempting you’re doing to Gabriel; it’s going to stop. He’s a good Angel. The best Angel. He’s better off without you corrupting him.” Michael said all sweet again, with an edge of threat.

_Sigh_. Beelzebub could really do without this bullshit, you know?

“Do you even hear yourself speak?” They drawled, sounding bored. “Corrupting? Tempting? He doesn’t need me to do those things, Wankwings.”

Michael twisted their arm further, as if that would make a difference. They were pushed lower to the floor.

“You’ve been sending him notes for months.” She said, voice now filled with venom. “I was lucky to have intercepted this one. You’ve had your fun, _played your games_. It’s time to set him loose. He has better things to be getting on with than consorting with the likes of _you_.”

Beelzebub said nothing. Their flies buzzed around impartially.

Michael was suddenly holding something in their free hand. “I bet _you_ miracled this into existence. Made him feel wanted. Made him feel like he belonged to you.” It was the name placard.

When Beelzebub still said nothing, Michael threw it to the floor, and by some divine influence, it split horizontally; _Lord Beelzebub_ falling to one side, and _Archangel Gabriel_ falling to the other.

They grit their teeth.

“If you’d done a better job of keeping that dog Crowley in line, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess. We’d have had our war, Heaven would’ve been victorious, and all you nasty little Demons would be destroyed, as you should’ve been when the Almighty cast you out _eons_ ago!” Michael was spewing pure bile now.

Beelzebub sighed and groaned. “Angels talk _so much_.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m letting Heaven lose another Angel to an agent of Hell.” Michael spat.

“That can be arranged.” Beelzebub muttered.

And everything went white.

\--

Ok.

_So_.

The arm twisting hadn’t hurt.

Them being pushed into the ground so hard that their knees had left indentations in the floor hadn’t hurt.

Being smote?

Fucking _ouch_.

Their whole body tingled with the pain of a billion fire ants biting at their flesh, burning them all over. They’d thought Gabriel’s love burned them. _No_. This burned like something they hadn’t felt since- since the _Fall_.

They weren’t sure if they’d screamed. They weren’t sure of how long they’d been burning for. But as quickly as it had started, it ended with a blink, and Beelzebub was sat on their throne in Hell, bodiless.

Fuck.

GodfuckingdamnitmotherfuckingpissingwankingbollocksJesusChristFUCK.

“DAGON.” They screamed.

Dagon waltzed into the throne room, a pile of files in one arm.

“My lord?” She said with a shit-eating grin.

“GET ME THE PAPERWORK NECESSARY FOR A NEW BODY.” They roared, the walls of the chamber shaking.

“At once, Lord Beelzebub.” Dagon smiled, did a little curtsy, and twirled back out of the room.

Beelzebub slumped back in their throne. It would be a few days until a new body would be approved. It would be identical to their old one, of course. If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.

This gave them time to think.

They hadn’t given a shit about most of what that stupid prissy Archangel had said. But there was one part that lingered in their head like a bad smell.

_He’s a good Angel._

_The best Angel._

The _best_ Angel had no business consorting with the Prince of Hell. He would tarnish their ghastly Demonic reputation, if anyone were to find out.

Did they want to take that risk? They were going to have to bullshit their way through the ‘_How did you lose your last corporation?_’ part of the paperwork as it was. Make up something about stepping on a landmine. Landmines were still a common thing, right?

As their body came in, them slipping into it like a comfortable worn glove, they’d made their decision.

They’d stop contacting him. Reject all meeting requests. Stay in Hell.

They’d find something else to do.

They’d kept themself busy for millennia, before Armageddon was even initiated.

But for the life of them, they couldn’t remember how.

\--

Over the next few weeks, the Demons of Hell really felt the Prince’s undivided attentions. They were being pushed to the limit, working harder to claim souls for Lucifer, and Hell’s ongoing plumbing issues were getting sorted, _finally_.[4] 

Dagon spent an inordinate amount of time orbiting Beelzebub as they went about their duties, approving requests and punishing failures.

“What do you want, Dagon?” They muttered, in between audiences.

Dagon’s smile was plastered to their face, teeth glistening from the small amount of light that peppered Hell.

“Productivity has increased since your jaunts to Earth ended, my Lord.” She said, happily.

Beelzebub grumbled something about the word ‘jaunts’.

“If I were the type of Demon to ask questions, which I am, I might ask whether you are burying yourself in work as a form of distraction?” She continued.

“A distraction from _what_, Dagon?” Beelzebub tried to stay impassive.

“Whatever it was you’re no longer going to Earth for.”

“What are you getting at?” They were losing patience, rapidly.

“I thought you’d have been more miserable than usual, what with Armageddon not happening, but you’ve surprised me by appearing....happier.” Dagon replied.

Beelzebub shot up off their throne. “You watch your mouth.” They buzzed.

Dagon chuckled. “Nothing wrong with being happy.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly _what?”_

“Nothing _wrong_ with it. We’re Demons. We’re meant to be all wrong.” Beelzebub answered.

Dagon hummed. “A happier Prince has meant a happier kingdom. Unexpectedly, moral has been up since Armageddnope-”

“It’s Nahpocalypse, now.”

Dagon paused. “...That’s better.”

“I know.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Just- somewhere. Dagon, are you going anywhere with this?” Beelzebub asked.

“Right.” Dagon collected her thoughts. “Go back to Earth.”

“What? _Why?_”

“Taking out your pent up frustration on the masses is burning them out. This won’t last.” Dagon warned.

“Then let them burn out. There’ll always be more Demons.”

“Not at the rate you’re spending them. You’ll collapse Hell’s economy. Go back to Earth, and get your jollies off.”

Beelzebub sat down on their throne with a heavy thud. “My reason to go to Earth isn’t there anymore.” They slumped forward, leaning their head in their hands.

“Wh- what do you mean?” Dagon hadn’t seemed to consider this.

“I mean-” They started, then continued in their hellish thundering voice, “I mean, **get back to work. Send in the next Demon**.”

And that was that.

\--

Beelzebub had been receiving notes from Gabriel steadily at first, all with a meeting time and place. It began with the usual abandoned office building, and then changed to alternative places as time went on, as if Gabriel thought the reason they didn’t want to meet was because they were bored of their chosen location.

Ironically, that location was where they’d been the least bored in their life.

Beelzebub sent a reply note to each meeting request:

_No_

To every single one.

The notes started to appear more frequently, at least once daily, and Beelzebub always sent the same reply.

_No_

_No_

_No_

Then there was a new note:

_Why not?_

They’d simply sent the same note back.

_Talk to me_

They’d sent that one back too.

And then they just started to ignore them. The notes began to pile up on their desk, which they had moved with them to the throne room, locking the door behind them. For the first time in a long time, they draped themself uncomfortably across their throne, and went to sleep.

\--

They stirred when there was a tap at the door.

There was _never_ a tap at the door.

The Demons of Hell knew better than to disturb them when they slept, regardless of how long it had been since their last nap.

The tapping continued.

_Tap tap tap tap_

_Tap tap tap tap_

Beelzebub rubbed their hands across their eyes blearily, wiping away the sleep. They righted themself on the throne, straightened their sash, and waved a hand towards the door.

It swung open, and three Erics stumbled in holding a tall potato sack wearing shoes.

Beelzebub blinked at the sight. The Erics were jovial.

“My lord!” “Sir, Ma’am!” “Your majesty!”

The three of him chimed, gesturing with his arms at the tall potato sack.

“We bring a gift!” He said, all together.

Beelzebub was not awake enough for this.

The shoes shuffled against the floor, and the bag wriggled. A sudden thought occurred to Beelzebub:

This was all too familiar.

“You _didn’t_?!” They buzzed, angrily. “I said no more gifts! What kind of moron do you have to be to bring _that_ into Hell?!”

“We owed him a favour!” One of the Disposable Demons said happily.

“The potato sack was his idea.” Another added.

“Couldn’t exactly let him be seen down here...”

“...Not with his reputation.” All of him finished.

Beelzebub raised a confused eyebrow. What kind of reputation did the Archangel have in Hell??

In answer to Beelzebub’s bafflement, one Demon pulled the sack off of the figure, whilst the other two pushed him forward like presenting a prize.

“Lord Beelzebub, what an honour.” He did a little bow and hand wave.

This was the last person Beelzebub had been expecting to see in Hell. Again.

“Crowley?!” They exclaimed, both angry and relieved that it wasn’t Gabriel.

“The one and only.” He smiled, flashing his teeth.

“I take offence to that.” An Eric pouted. Crowley shrugged at him.

“Crowley, before we leave you to it-”

“Can we-”

“Possibly?”

“Of course, lads, of course. Get in here.” He leaned down a bit, letting his glasses slip down just enough to see the slit of his eyes.

The Disposable Demons grinned; each pulled out a smart phone, and took a group selfie.

“Cheers, boys.” Crowley said, pushing his glasses back up to sit on his face properly. “Don’t forget to come back for me later. Being seen down here would be **_Hell_**.”

The Erics laughed, and left the room closing the door behind him.

Crowley turned to face Beelzebub.

“Get your ass back to Earth.” He said seriously.

Beelzebub held an instantaneously appeared sabre to his throat.

“You may not be on the payroll anymore, but you will still speak to me with respect.” They seethed.

Crowley jumped back, raising his hands. “Apologies! But if you knew what I’d been putting up with...”

Dangling from one of his hands was a small carrier bag with a plastic box in it. An aroma they had yet to notice hit Beelzebub.

“Is that...?” They started, blade vanishing.

Crowley held the bag out to them. “An actual gift.”

They took the bag and looked inside. It was a carton of sushi.

Inexplicably suddenly ravenous, they sat back down on their throne, pulled the carton from the bag, and dug right in, forgoing the disposable chopsticks provided.

Whilst they ate, Crowley strolled around the room in curiosity. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Every throne room could do with a chest high pile of scrap paper against the wall.” He mused.

“That’s my desk.” Beelzebub muttered through an eel rice thing, loaded with wasabi.

Crowley’s jaw dropped audibly, and he sauntered over to the table, grasping a few of the notes in his hand. He read them out loud;

_“Desk Warehouse. Immediately. Let’s talk.”_

_“Tell me what I did wrong.”_

_“Beelz. Please. Come see me.”_

Beelzebub cleared their throat at Crowley saying their nickname, but kept eating. The roll things were good.

“Lord Beelzebub,” Crowley began, with something amounting to pity in his voice, “he’s got it bad for you.”

Beelzebub wiped their mouth with the back of their hand.

“What did Eric mean by ‘he owed you a favour’?” They asked, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, that? Just something I helped him with a while back.” Crowley answered dismissively.

Beelzebub gave him a look that said _elaborate._

Crowley clicked his tongue. “Fine. I taught him how to multiply. Now before you say anything, I asked your permission first! So it really is on you.”

Beelzebub was dumbfounded. “That- that was you?!” They threw the now empty carton behind their throne, where it promptly vanished.

“You said I could! He was really desperate to learn how.” Crowley said defensively.

Beelzebub racked their brain for when they may have agreed to that. “Multiply...multip- Wait. I thought you meant _mathematics!_ I thought he was transferring to payroll or something.”

“Ha, yes, well, that’s not my fault.” Crowley knocked a bunch of notes to the floor, and perched on the edge of the desk. “What is _your_ fault though, is how I’ve been a prisoner in my own home for the past month!”

Beelzebub swallowed, not looking at Crowley.

“We’ve missed countless shows and dinner reservations because he wouldn’t leave from the front of the bookshop, which _thankfully_ wouldn’t open its doors for him. After the fourth week, Aziraphale snapped, dragged me out the fire escape on the first floor and we went for sushi. Gabriel found us there.” Crowley hissed, unrelenting. “I will _never_ be able to get these Archangel tears out from my jacket!”

Beelzebub’s head snapped up to look at him. “He _cried_?”

“Wailed like a fucking banshee.” Crowley nodded. “He makes a sad drunk.”

“_You got him drunk?!”_ Beelzebub stood up again in shock.

“_No_, he got _himself_ drunk!” He answered, miffed. “Finished my sake, and all the sake in the building. Drank the place dry as he sobbed about how much he missed _you._”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” Beelzebub turned away again.

“’the fuck happened, Lord Beelzebub? One day you’re ambushing my date all _besotted-_” they both cringed at the word, “-and the next I’m being begged to come down here and find out why you’ve been avoiding him for nearly two months.”

“I changed my mind.” They crossed their arms, staring at a wall.

“_You changed your mind?_ Try again.”

“I don’t want to meet him anymore.” They glanced at Crowley, and then back to the wall. It looked lickable.

“Yes you _do_. Otherwise why else have you holed yourself up in your chamber- Is that a new corporation?” He interrupted himself.

Beelzebub shifted their weight side to side.

“It _is._ Rough, that. Bet you’re getting asked lots of questions. What happened? Get hit by a double decker, or...” Crowley continued.

Beelzebub considered lying, as they always do, but they honestly couldn’t be arsed at this point.

“I got smote.” They answered.

“You _what?!_” Crowley nearly fell off the edge of the desk.

Beelzebub said nothing.

“Gabriel smote you?!”

“No! No. It was Michael.” They sat back down in their throne, grinding their teeth.

Crowley’s jaw dropped, and snapped shut. “Michael? Michael’s a wanker!”

“You thought so too?” Beelzebub said, jaded.

“And you just let her smite you?” He was acting as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Didn’t have much of a choice. I was caught before I could flee.” They muttered.

“I’ve seen what you can do with those swords of yours-”

“_Sabres_. And I didn’t get the chance. She had grip like a vice. Have you _tried_ moving an Angel?”

Crowley paused momentarily in thought. “Ngh, now that you mention it-”

“They’re sturdy fuckers.”

“Why were you with Michael?” Crowley enquired.

Beelzebub clicked their tongue. “She intercepted a note. Showed up instead of him. Started trying to make me feel bad for being a Demon.”

There was a beat.

They both burst out laughing.

Crowley wiped a tear away from his eye under his glasses. “That’s rich!”

Beelzebub made a noise of agreement.

“How pathetic.” Crowley finished laughing, and cleared his throat to be more serious. Beelzebub did the same.

They sighed. “She said one thing of sense though. That Gabriel is an Angel. I’d be ruined if anyone knew what I had with him.”

You know, there’s only so many times you can handle seeing an exiled Demon’s jaw drop in one day before it starts to piss you off.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!” He threw his hands up in the air.

Beelzebub didn’t answer.

“If Hell finds out that you’ve bedded a bloody Archangel, they’d throw you a parade!”

Oh. They hadn’t thought of it like that.

“You’ve tempted the untemptable, the most righteous of beings.” Crowley went on.

“I haven’t tempted him at all.” Beelzebub corrected.

“_They_ don’t need to know that. If anyone asks, just tell them it took months of effort and coaxing. They won’t know the difference.” He waved his hand around dismissively, sitting back on the edge of the desk.

As they began to consider it, Crowley sauntered over with his hands stuck out his too-small pockets, and leaned in to murmur in Beelzebub’s ear.

“_You’re Lord Beelzebub, Prince of Hell. They’ll believe what you tell them to believe. Nobody tells you what to do, you tell _them_ what to do. You can say what the fuck you like, and do who the fuck you like. You’re Lord of the Flies. You find what you want, and take it. If they don’t like it, then you make them like it, because you’re Lord Fucking Beelzebub, Prince of Hell_.”

As far as temptations went, it wasn’t half bad. He’d get an ‘approved’ stamp.

Beelzebub stood up, and pat the side of his face.

“Good pep talk.” They said, walking over to their desk. They picked up the latest note to materialise on top of the pile.

_Beelz. My head hurts. I miss you._

They crushed it in their palm, and all the notes on the desk went up in flame, before vanishing into nothing.

“So you’ll go meet him? Get him out of my life?” Crowley said hopefully.

“You’ll have to give the message, in case the git gets her hands on it again.” Beelzebub rolled their eyes.

“Of course, Lord Beelzebub.” Crowley beamed, and bowed again.

They stuck their head out the chamber door. “**ERIC. DELIVERY.**” They bellowed in their Demonic voice.

The three Disposable Demons appeared immediately.

“Yes Sir, Ma’am-” “Your majesty-” “My Lord.”

As one of the Demons picked up the large potato sack, Crowley eyed them curiously.

“Wasn’t there more of you?” He asked questioningly.

The Erics blushed. “There was. We’ve been limited to this many after we kidnapped an Archangel.”

Crowley looked shocked and delighted. He turned to Beelzebub and mouthed ‘_Your Archangel?’_

The Demon Prince just nodded minutely.

“Boys. I’m so proud of you.” He smiled, the sack going over his head.

“W-wait!” Beelzebub rushed over, and slipped a piece of paper into Crowley’s hand. “Ok. Take him.”

The Disposable Demons grinned, each grabbing a bit of sack, (_Crowley yelping_ ‘_oi, watch _it’) and steered him from the room.

Beelzebub sat down on their throne and waited.

\--

The next day, Beelzebub arrived early at the desk warehouse, expecting to be the first one there, as per usual.

Only. They weren’t.

An Archangel stood at the desk, facing away from them, toying with the two halves of a broken name placard. He tilted them alternately, flashing as they caught the sparse sunlight from the windows.

_Lord Beelzebub_

_Archangel Gabriel_

_Lord Beelzebub_

_Archangel Gabriel_

Beelzebub took a deep breath in, exhaled it slowly, and walked into the room to stand by him.

“You can put that back together.” They said.

Impressively, Gabriel was very composed. “I didn’t know if you wanted it back together.”

“I can’t fix it. It was broken by an Angel. It can only be fixed by an Angel.”

“Is that right?” Gabriel mused, distracted.

He looked like, well, **_Hell._**

He’d left his facial hair grow, short and scraggy, too long to be stubble, but too short to count as a real beard.

His hair was tousled.

His suit had stains down the front of it, looking vaguely like soy sauce.

His eyes- His eyes looked puffy. Could Angels even get puffy eyes? Gabriel had puffy eyes.

Beelzebub moved before they could stop themself. They slid their arms around his torso and squeezed him close to them. They buried their face in his shirt. It _was_ soy sauce.

“You smell like a sewer.” They said, taking a deep breath of him.

Gabriel huffed out a laugh, and held his arms awkwardly away from their bodies, as if scared he might frighten the Demon Prince away. “Do you like it?”

Beelzebub made a noise that was neither here nor there. It was just a noise.

“How long have you been waiting?” They asked him, face still hidden.

“Since I received the note.” He answered,

“That was yesterday.” They looked up at him, their chin resting on his chest.

He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”

It was still several hours before the suggested meeting time. They had _both_ been a little over eager.

“Beelz,” Gabriel began. Beelzebub shuddered at the sound of their name passing his lips, “Crowley told me what happened with Michael. I’m sorry about her. She can be a bit overprotective.”

“’m over it.” They mumbled, shrugging slightly and burying their face again.

“I’ll talk to her; see if I can get her to back down a bit.” He continued.

“She doesn’t bother me.” Beelzebub shook their head.

“You haven’t been avoiding me because you didn’t want to get smote again?” Gabriel asked, confused.

Apparently Crowley hadn’t disclosed their entire conversation to the Archangel when handing over the note.

“No.” They said.

“Then why?”

Beelzebub didn’t answer.

“Can we talk about this?” Gabriel pressed, his hands finally resting on their shoulders.

Beelzebub pushed away from him, circling round to the other side of the desk. “Fix this.” They gestured to the name placard.

“Beelz, I just spent a month stood outside a bookshop in Soho. People began propositioning me for sex. Please talk to me.” Gabriel said helplessly.

“Fix. This.” They said again, although they wanted to hear more about the sex thing later.

“What did Michael say to get you so upset?”

Beelzebub didn’t answer, but grabbed the two bits of broken placard and forced them together. The opposing sides fell apart again.

“Stop running from your feelings!” Gabriel put his hand on theirs across the table.

They yanked their hand back. “I don’t have _feelings_. I’m a Demon!”

“Like _Hell_ you don’t. You think you’re good at hiding it, but I can tell straight away how you feel. That tiny twitch of your mouth when you find something amusing. That ticked off look you get when something hasn’t gone your way. How your shoulders sag a little as if you’re sad every time we part ways.”

“Shut up.” Beelzebub buzzed, stepping away.

“No! Tell me what’s going through your beautiful head right now!” Gabriel leaned over the table towards them.

“This was a terrible idea. I’m going back to Hell.” Beelzebub circled back round the desk, and started

towards the door. “And leave Crowley alone, for fucks sake.”

Gabriel was behind them instantly, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. They thought about trying to escape, but didn’t want to waste their energy.

“You’ll stay here and talk to me.” He said, voice bordering on Angelic authority.

“You’ll ruin my reputation.” Beelzebub offered.

Gabriel snorted. “Try again.”

“I’ll corrupt you.” They hadn’t meant to say that.

Gabriel’s grip loosened minutely, shocked. “_What_?”

“You’re too good for me.” Why were they still talking? Mouth, _stop_!

Gabriel spun them round, and held them by the shoulders, looking into their eyes. They turned their head to look away.

“Beelz.” He said, sternly. “Did Michael say that to you?”

“It was obvious from the beginning. We shouldn’t have started this.” They still weren’t looking at him.

Gabriel muttered something about killing Michael. That sounded nice.

“Are you afraid I’ll fall?” He hedged, apprehensively. They hadn’t really spoken about falling up to this point.

Beelzebub turned to look at him, ready to argue that they aren’t afraid of anything, but instead they said “I like you as an Angel.”

_Ah shit_. That’s the first time that’s been said out loud.

Gabriel’s cheeks flushed a dark pink, and his mouth opened and closed a few times.

“I didn’t mean that.” Beelzebub said quickly, trying to salvage the situation.

“Yes you did!” Gabriel smiled, and pulled them into a hug.

“I _really_ didn’t.” Beelzebub sulked, getting lovingly squished. This truly was a terrible idea.

“You like me!” Gabriel exclaimed happily, resting his chin on their head.

_Ugh_. Maybe they should’ve gotten a taller corporation after all.

“I like nothing.” They said, cheek pressed into his throat.

“Aren’t _I_ ‘nothing’?” Gabriel teased.

Beelzebub actually let loose a laugh before they could catch it, prompting Gabriel to bend down to press his lips to theirs.

He tasted like a sewer too. And his face was scratchy.

Beelzebub broke the kiss, leaning away from him, pushing his face away with their hand.

“You need a wash.” They said, deadpan.

Gabriel laughed. “I do.” He agreed.

“And a shave.” They added.

Gabriel rubbed his jaw, and in an instant the stubble was gone. He ran a hand through his hair, righting it, and then he sniffed his breath, turning up his nose. Suddenly, he was minty fresh.

Beelzebub pressed a hand to his clothes, and as they pulled back, the soy stains were gone.

Gabriel beamed at them. It was very bright. They squinted.

“I got you something.” He said suddenly. He took their hand and led them to the desk. He opened one of the drawers, and pulled out two small parcels.

“Why?” Beelzebub asked, eyeing the parcels with interest, despite themself.

“It was our three month anniversary.” He answered shyly.

Beelzebub raised an eyebrow.

“It’s a human thing; anniversaries. Honestly, I just wanted an excuse to give you something.”

Oh, so they were still doing the human things. Good to know.

Beelzebub toyed at the wrapping of one of the parcels.

“You can open them, if you like?” Gabriel hinted.

They picked one of them up. It felt weighty, but not exactly heavy. They peeled the packaging away, and was hit by a strong homely scent.

A bag of coffee beans.

“The human in the shop said it’s the world’s best coffee. Thought you might like it.” Gabriel said.

Beelzebub sniffed at the package again. They’d _definitely_ be hiding this away from the other Demons. They put it down, and then palmed the other parcel on the desk. It was also weighty, but a lot more solid. They tore the wrapping off.

A stone.

“It’s a whetstone.” Gabriel explained. “For your sabres.”

“I know what it is.” Beelzebub whispered, breath catching, turning the stone over in their hand. It fit perfectly in their palm.

“Of course I had the thought that infernal blades didn’t get blunt, but I figured-”

“Shh.” Beelzebub shushed him. They sat up on the edge of the desk, feet dangling.

They pulled out one of their sabres, again, from _somewhere_, and rested it across their thigh.

They dragged the stone across it.

_That_ was unexpected.

A thrill ran through their hand holding the whetstone, vibrating up their arm, spreading throughout their torso. It felt like their heart _almost_ beat. It kind of..._fizzed_.

They moved the stone again. Warmth spread through their body, starting from the contact between stone and blade, and resting in their chest where their heart was.

Their breath hitched.

“Beelz?” Gabriel asked, apparently not satisfied that he wasn’t talking enough.

“I love it.” Beelzebub whispered.

Gabriel smiled broadly, his divine love radiating from his body. As it reached them, they recognised that it matched the warmth that was settled in their chest. They sharpened the blade one more time to make sure, their body doubly filling with love.

Beelzebub put down the stone and blade gently, and then roughly grabbed Gabriel, throwing him onto his back on the table. They straddled him.

“Beelz.” He said again, breathless.

They lifted their sash over their head, dropping it to the floor, unbuttoning their jacket and shrugging it off.

It was the least they’d ever worn in front of anyone.

They undid their ribbons, but Gabriel caught their hands as they started the buttons on their shirt.

“You don’t have to.” He said softly.

It hit Beelzebub like a ton of bricks.

“You don’t want me?” They asked, voice breaking. Treacherous voice.

Gabriel’s eyes widened in horror, and he sat up, pulling them close.

“No, no. I mean, yes. I mean- All I meant was that you didn’t have to feel obligated, just because I gave you something.” He clarified.

Beelzebub relaxed. Thank fuck.

“I want to, because I want to.” They said, full of....feeling? Is that what that was?

Gabriel leaned back a little, and kissed them on the nose. “Can...I?” He gestured to their shirt buttons.

Beelzebub thought about it, then nodded.

His hands undid each button carefully, pushing the shirt from their shoulders. It fell to the ground to sit with the jacket, sash, and ribbons. They were wearing a white vest underneath. Gabriel flipped them over onto their back, undid their trousers, and pulled them off with their shoes in one motion.

He paused.

Beelzebub looked down at their underwear, and then let their head fall back onto the table with a thunk.

They’d forgotten about _that_.

“You’ve...changed _Effort_?” Gabriel said, trying to be casual.

“The old one reminded me of you.” Beelzebub said thickly. “I didn’t want to be reminded of you.”

“Oh.” Gabriel said. He slid his hands down and back up their thighs, resting on their hips. “Do you know how to use this one?”

Beelzebub sat up on their elbows and scowled at him. “Of course I know how to use it.”

“...did you want to?” He leaned down, and pressed his lips where their previous Effort would’ve been situated.

Beelzebub squirmed, and then wrapped their legs around his waist, pulling him flush against them. His Effort was the same as always.

They nodded.

\--

Gabriel was on his knees.

He was shouting through a letterbox.

“Aziraphale! They’re back! Thank your Demon for me.”

There was a shuffling sound, and the Angel’s voice sounded like it was far away.

“Very good. Mind how you go!”

Then silence. Gabriel opened his mouth to keep shouting, but was interrupted by some passing humans on the street.[5] 

“Aww, he’s got a customer with him today.” One of them pouted.

“After he turned us down all month.” The other added.

Beelzebub glowered at them, grabbing Gabriel by the collar.

“I think you’ll find I’m his _owner_.”

The humans looked shocked, and then went on their merry way.

Gabriel’s love was showing again. Beelzebub was minding less and less.

“Aziraphale!” He shouted through the letterbox again. “I need another favour!”

_‘We are not his errand boys._’ Beelzebub heard Crowley say from inside the building.

“We want somewhere to- to live.” Gabriel continued.

Aziraphale’s eyes appeared at the letterbox. “Well you aren’t living here!” He said sharply.

Gabriel made that™ face, saying, “Obviously. Find us an abode. Our last rendezvous point has been compromised.”

“I can do that.” Crowley’s sunglasses appeared next to Aziraphale’s eyes at the letterbox.

“What? Why?” Aziraphale asked suspiciously.

“Anything to get him to leave us alone. And I like Real Estate.” He replied.

“Guys, as _a-door-able_ as this is, talking like this, why not come out and talk to us?” Gabriel suggested.

The sunglasses and blue eyes looked at each other, then back at Gabriel.

“No. We’re good. We’ll be in touch.” Aziraphale said, slamming shut his side of the letterbox. There was the sound of footsteps getting quieter as they walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, as it fuels my creativity. Kudos are appreciated too :)
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/joseyxneko). Complaining about Footnotes.
> 
> ** Footnotes **
> 
> 1I mean. They weren’t wrong? [return to text]
> 
> 2Again. [return to text]
> 
> 3At one point, Beelzebub noticed that Gabriel had been lying on the name placard. They moved it away from his side, leaving an indent of _Lord Beelzebub_ on his buttock, albeit backwards. They found themself liking that a lot. [return to text]
> 
> 4There were no complaints about leaking pipes, and the buckets of Hell were enjoying a nice sabbatical. [return to text]
> 
> 5Beelzebub was too disinterested to categorise which binary human gender they presented as.[return to text]


	2. #BookshopBouncer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Crowley POV of being trapped in the Bookshop for a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CHAPTER!
> 
> I won't lie.
> 
> This turned out Crackier than I expected.
> 
> You write a cracky premise, you get cracky results, I suppose.
> 
> Anyway. Please enjoy!
> 
> Tell me which bit made you laugh the most in the comments <3

Crowley and Aziraphale had had a lovely morning of doing absolutely nothing in the bookshop. Just cuddling whilst Aziraphale read his books, and Crowley played a game on his smartphone.

The Bookshop had been unusually quiet for a Saturday with the sign flipped to ‘Open’, and every now and then Crowley would go check to see that the bell was still attached and that there hadn’t been humans just wandering around the shop with them unawares.

There were no humans, and the bell was still exactly where it should be. Crowley swiped it with his finger. It jingled as per normal.

“Is that a customer?” Aziraphale called from the other room, sounding like he was about to get up from the sofa.

“No, just me. Stay there Angel.” Crowley called back, before muttering to himself, “Why is it so quiet today...?”

The answer came when they had a 7pm dinner reservation to make, and they tried leaving the bookshop.

_Tried_. Because the doors weren’t opening.

“Oh, not this nonsense again.” Aziraphale grumbled, snapping his fingers and jiggling the door handle, to no avail.

“What do you mean ‘again’, Angel? This has only happened once before.” Crowley tried the handle too, as if it would listen to him better. It didn’t.

They looked at each other in sudden realisation.

Aziraphale pulled on the blind covering the doors window, and it drew itself up with a thwip and a crack.

“Jesus!” Crowley yelped, more or less jumping into Aziraphale’s arms.

The Angel rolled his eyes. “I think you’ll find that’s Gabriel.”

The Archangel was stood in front of the door, facing them with a wide grin on his face that Crowley vaguely felt the intention was to look friendly, but instead just looked creepy as Hell.[1]

So **_that’s_** why the doors hadn’t opened all day.

“Good Bookshop.” Crowley murmured to the building, unapologetically.

Aziraphale huffed, side-eyeing him, before putting his hand through the letterbox to hold it open whilst he spoke.

“What do you want, Gabriel? You signed a contract. Neither Heaven nor Hell can call on us anymore.” The Angel said, making a very good point.

Gabriel scoffed. “This isn’t Heaven or Hell. This is me.”

“I think that makes it worse.” Crowley turned to Aziraphale, who looked like he desperately wanted to agree, but wasn’t going to.

“I...I need a favour-” Gabriel began, but Aziraphale took his hand out of the letterbox, and pulled the blind back down.

“He’ll get bored and leave, eventually. Come on; let’s have whatever is in the fridge.” He said, grabbing Crowley’s hand and pulling him away from the door.

And who was he to argue?

That was **Day 1**.

** Day 2 **

Gabriel was still there.

Just stood outside the bookshop, as if he had nowhere better to be.

Crowley had opened the blind, closing it again instantaneously. The Archangel hadn’t even finished turning around before once again being hidden from view. There was a tap at the window, and the letterbox opened.

“I’d really appreciate if you could-” Gabriel began, but Crowley closed the box, miracling it shut.

“Looks like it’s going to be another quiet day indoors.” He called out to his Angel, who popped his head out of the backroom.

“Oh jolly good. I can get caught up on some more reading. Wine?” Aziraphale wiggled a wineglass temptingly.

“You already know the answer to that.” Crowley grinned, grabbing Aziraphale’s free hand. He pulled him into the backroom, and did something that made the Angel giggle hysterically.

** Day 7 **

Time worked a little differently for immortal beings that had been on Earth for more than 6000 years.

A week had passed in the blink of an eye.

And the bookshop doors had still not opened.

“Maybe we should see what he wants?” Aziraphale asked, getting a little antsy.

“That’ll give him hope. It’s as you said; he’ll leave eventually. We’ve just got to outlast him.” Crowley answered.

“But- but what if it’s the end of the world?” The Angel asked, wringing his hands.

“What, twice in one year? Be serious, Angel.”

** Day 15 **

“We’ve run out of tea, Crowley. I’m just popping to the shop to get some.” Aziraphale was putting on his coat, when Crowley put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asked.

“Oh, of course.” The Angel fluttered his eyelashes and kissed the Demon on the lips.

Crowley blinked. “...Lovely, but not that. The doors won’t open?”

Aziraphale paused. “Oh.” He wrung his hands. “...should I get Gabriel to go get the tea?”

“Do not engage with the enemy.” Crowley said sternly, taking his coat and hanging it back up. “I’ll miracle us some in.”

“But it’s not the same!” Aziraphale whined.

** Day 18 **

Crowley found an interesting new hashtag on Twitter.

** _#BookshopBouncer_ **

@SoHoeBooker

_Looks like Mr. Fell has finally gone full feral, and hired a Bouncer to stop people entering his shop, even during actual opening hours. #BookshopBouncer_

@SecondHandJobBooks

_That #BookshopBouncer has been stood there without fail for over two weeks! Whatever they’re paying him, he’s earned it._ 💷 💷

@VintagePaper69

_Those purple eyes~ 👀 He’s like the anti-Willy Wonka, keeping us out of the factory instead of letting us in. [Let me iiiinnn meme] #BookshopBouncer #DoINeedAGoldenTicket_

@DraperStanHamm

_You know what? I don’t even care anymore. Don’t let me in the bookshop. Just let me look at you all day, because you look like that guy from Mad Men 🤤 _ _#thirsty_ _ #BookshopBouncer_

@AZHellInMoFo

_The other day, I saw #BookshopBouncer write on a notepad, rip out the paper and drop it on the floor 😱 I thought he was littering, but the paper just vanished??? And he did that A LOT. He’s done it every time I’ve seen him._

_@SecondHandJobBooks Replied: I asked him what he was doing. He said ‘Love letters’. My heart! 💜_

** Day 20 **

Crowley was eyeing up one of the bookshelves, trying to decided whether he was bored enough to try reading one of the books, when Aziraphale passed by him.

He opened the blind, screaming “Go away!” before closing it again and storming off.

Crowley went back to playing Farmville.

** Day 23 **

“I can feel his resolve breaking from here.” Aziraphale announced, resolutely.

“Are you sure that’s not your own?” Crowley asked, sitting down against the bookshop door.

“We are out of everything besides wine!” The Angel snapped. “I can’t live off only wine!”

“I don’t have an issue with it.” Crowley mumbled, Aziraphale already marching off to rearrange his bookshelves _again._

Crowley sighed. Maybe there was a way he could speed this process along? He unstuck the letterbox with a thought, and reached his will through the door, reading the passing humans as they came and went. He found what he was looking for, and snapped his fingers.

A couple of humans approached Gabriel.

“Ooh, you’re a pretty one.” Said one voice.

“Why thank you.” Gabriel answered politely, ever the Angel.

“How much do you charge per shag?” Said the other.

“...per what?” Gabriel sounded lost.

“Will we get a ‘two for one’ deal? Because we’re willing to share if that’s the case.”

“I don’t understand-”

“I bet you look hot with a cock in you.” The first voice said again.

“Ah, yes, that I _have_ been told.” Gabriel said, apparently pleased to be on familiar ground.

Crowley choked silently.

The humans murmured in appreciation.

“So how much?” One of them asked again.

“Oh, I’m not for sale. There’s only one cock I want inside me, and I’m trying to get them back.” The Archangel answered.

There was a gasp. “It’s not Mr. Fell is it?”

“NO IT BLOODY ISN’T.” Crowley hissed through the letterbox, before miracling it shut again, and storming into the back room.

** Day 28 **

Aziraphale was sat on the sofa, his head in his hands, sobbing. Crowley felt much the same way.

“There’s nothing left. We’ve eaten it all. We’ll starve to death.” The Angel cried.

Crowley put his hand on his shoulder and rubbed soothingly. “We’re immortal beings. We _can’t_ starve to death.”

Aziraphale sobbed harder. “Is there no escape from this prison cell?”

“Angel. It’s been twenty eight days. _Only_ twenty eight days. That’s nothing in the grand scheme of things. If we help him now, he’ll have us over a barrel for eternity.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “I- I want to see the sky, Crowley. I want to experience fine dining. I want my nails manicured- Look how awful they look!” He flashed his hands towards Crowley. They looked fine to him. “I want to see all the concerts and shows that we’ve missed whilst we’ve been trapped in here. I want- I want sushi. Goddamnit, I want sushi! Come on, let’s go!”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand, dragging him up the stairs to the flat above the shop. There was already a window open to the fire escape, with fresh air blowing in.

They climbed out, and they were free.

\--

“Go to Hell, Crowley.” Gabriel appeared beside them.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Crowley stood up, jutting his jaw out at him.

Aziraphale was ignoring the exchange, three plates deep in ISO maki and soy sauce.

The Archangel took a step back to gain some distance between them.

“I mean it. Go to Hell. Find Beelzebub. Find out why they aren’t answering my messages anymore.” He continued.

Crowley took a long, hard look at him, and then sat back down on his stool, taking a long sip of warm sake. It was nice to have something other than red wine for once. He sighed.

“Maybe they’ve realised what a tool you are, and don’t want anything to do with you.” He offered.

Gabriel pulled out a stool, swung his leg over it, and sat facing Crowley, leaning on the counter with one elbow. “That’s the thing. They like how much of a tool I am.” He said seriously.

Crowley snorted, drinking more sake. He’ll need to be drunker for this.

“What’s that?” Gabriel asked, pointing to the little ceramic cup and flask in front of Crowley.

“Sake.” He answered, not look at him. He reached down for the flask to refill his cup, but before he could grasp it, Gabriel picked it up and downed the entire thing. Crowley’s eyes went wide, and Aziraphale swallowed his mouthful of sushi and dabbed his lips with his napkin slowly in shock.

They waited.

Gabriel burst into tears.

_Wonderful._

“Why don’t they like me anymore??” Gabriel sobbed, head in his hands.

“Are you sure they even liked you in the first place? It should be rather hard to tell with the Prince of Hell, I would think.” Aziraphale asked, now fully committed to the conversation.

Gabriel nodded. “They definitely liked me. They never said it, but I knew from the way they tolerated me, the way they looked at me, the way they held me. Oh how they held me!” He wailed.

Aziraphale looked around the shop. It was luckily devoid of humans, other than the restaurant staff. He tapped the table next to the sake flask twice, saying, “We’ll need a few more of these.”

The shop staff left to retrieve more alcohol.

“Has it been like this since your fight after our engagement?” Aziraphale asked lightly.

Gabriel shook his head. “We made up after that. The makeup sex was _amazing_.” He slurred.

Crowley clawed at his own face, trying futilely to get the image out of his head. Aziraphale smirked, unbothered by the smutty talk.

“So...?” The Angel continued to ask.

More sake was brought to the table, with some cups which Gabriel ignored. He picked up another flask and chugged it like his life depended on his. He exhaled.

“I think- I think something happened to them.” He whimpered, pulling something out of his suit. They looked like parts of one of those name sticks you get on corporate desks. “I found this at our usual rendezvous point. I miracled it up to demonstrate my commitment, only, it’s been broken in half.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Crowley and Aziraphale eyed the wood with gold lettering.

“How very peculiar.” The Angel murmured, turning ‘_Archangel Gabriel’_ over in his hand.

“How tacky it is?” The Demon posed. Aziraphale gave him a disapproving look.

“If it were accidental, it would’ve broken this way, surely?” He ran his finger across the space between ‘_Archangel’_ and _‘Gabriel’_.

Gabriel started to sob again. “They’ve literally broken up with me.” He reached for another flask, downing half of it before Aziraphale snatched it from his hand and handed it to Crowley.

Well, they _had_ proven that indirect kisses were safe, so...

He downed the rest of it, warm alcohol scorching his throat and warming his stomach. Just as well, because the Archangel decided to drape himself across Crowley’s shoulders, crying into his lapels.

“I miss them so much. The way they’d always be at a rendezvous point first, waiting for me. How they’d respond with physical violence if something I said annoyed them. How they’d scold me for trying to talk with my mouth full.” He wept.

“But you don’t eat?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t.” Gabriel sniffed, unsure at the confusion.

Crowley really wished he’d been the one to drink two whole flasks of sake right now.

The Archangel rubbed his face into Crowley’s jacket and sighed. “You smell a bit like them.”

“I do _not_!” Crowley replied, mortified, trying to push the Archangel away. He was as solid as a statue. The Demon gave up, hands falling to the side.

“I think he means the hint of brimstone, my dear.” Aziraphale suggested softly.

Crowley made a noise of understanding. The smell of damnation just didn’t wash off.

“I just want them to talk to me. One more time. I- I want to see them one more time. Please, Demon, go to Hell and bring them back for me. You’re the only one I can ask this of.” Gabriel begged.

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged looks.

“What’s in it for us?” Crowley asked.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel snuffled.

“If I have to go down to Hell, I want compensation. They _hate_ me down there, since I did that whole thing with the Holy Water.” He winked behind his glasses at Aziraphale, who ignored him.

“Uh...” The Archangel began ineloquently. “I’ll stop standing outside the bookshop?” He offered.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Crowley scoffed.

Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s arm, looking at Gabriel in his tear stained face.

“I have a suggestion.” He said carefully.

“What’s that?” Archangel and Demon said in unison, looking back at him.

“Congratulate us.” Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled.

Gabriel looked confused, but the Demon understood what he was getting at.

“Give us your- your _blessing_.” Crowley looked chagrined at the word, but Aziraphale continued. “On our engagement.”

Gabriel lurched backwards, knocking over a bottle of Kikkoman, splashing soy sauce all down his front. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Aziraphale demanded.

“Supporting the unholy bond between an Angel and a Demon? I’d be a laughing stock!” Gabriel said all garbled.

Aziraphale coughed. “You...already are?” He gestured to him.

And the Angel was right. Gabriel hadn’t kept up appearances at all whilst stood outside the bookshop. Crowley wouldn’t be surprised if people started putting pennies in his cup. If he had a cup.

Gabriel took one long sniff, rubbed his hands over his face and eyes, and sat up straight.

“You have it.” He said, as coherently as he could.

“We have what?” Aziraphale asked facetiously.

“My blessing. My congratulations. Whatever. Go get married, see if I care. Just bring me back my Beelzebub.” Gabriel folded his arms and sulked.

Aziraphale looked to Crowley. “Will you be safe, my dear?”

Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’ll make a call. Someone down there owes me a favour.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Wonderful. Ready to go?”

“One moment, Angel. If I’m going down there, I’ll need a peace offering.” Crowley called over one of the restaurant staff, who had been giving them plenty of space, and quietly placed an order, settling the bill at the same time. “What about him?” He gestured to Gabriel with his thumb, who was now draped across the counter, spinning an empty flask like a game of ‘spin the bottle’.

Aziraphale looked at Gabriel, and then linked his arm through Crowley’s. “Oh he’s a big boy. He’ll figure it out.”

Crowley received his order from the kitchen, and they walked out, leaving the Archangel to weep to himself at the counter, a staff member bringing him another flask of sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, as it fuels my creativity. Kudos are appreciated too :)
> 
> There will (probably) be more stories in this series, so please subscribe to my profile if you are interested ^_^
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/joseyxneko). I post about myself raging about my stories.
> 
> **Footnotes**
> 
> 1Except Hell wasn’t creepy. Mostly just dark, damp, and a bit smelly. [return to text]


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